


The One With Silver Scars

by boldcreations



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Graphic Description, Instinct, Mental Instability, Nudity, Romance, Sexual Content, Survival, Violence, mature content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boldcreations/pseuds/boldcreations
Summary: Split (2016) Spoilers! This story loosely follows the events of the film!Adelais Benoit knew that she wasn't normal; normal people didn't sit with their family and imagine the things that could accidentally kill them. Normal people didn't grow irritated with someone making an unwanted noise and imagine killing them to shut them up. Normal people didn't black out when it all became too much, waking up hours later to realize that her mind may have slept, but her body moved on.Blackmailed by her parents into attending the birthday party of her teenage cousin, Claire Benoit, Adelais will soon come to realize what makes her so different.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to start on another Split story for a while, this time one that wasn't AU, so this is the end result of that labor. Hope you all enjoy, make sure to come back for more!

Adelais sat at the end of her bed, hunched and fatigued, as she looked across the small space between her and the cheap mirror mounted on her wall. Her dark blonde hair was washed, brushed and braided back in a neat, meticulous French plait that her mother had been sure to inspect for loose strands or uneven lines. Once she had deemed it perfect, she had sent Adelais to her room to finish getting ready. She used cover-up to hide the dark shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, thankfully matching with her ungodly pale skin tone. Adding just enough eyeliner and mascara for her mother to approve, she looked more put together and tidy than she had remembering being in months.

She never left the house; her parents had assigned her to online courses at the nearby university, stating that she had agoraphobia and therefore could not attend classes in person. There was no escape from her parents; the invisible chain around her throat was too tight to pull off, too strong to break.

"Your uncle will be here soon," her mother's voice came through the door suddenly. It surprised the young woman that she hadn't just walked in like she normally would. "You better get out here and show me that you're presentable."

Presentable. Of course. Couldn't have the child most people didn't even know they had embarrassing them. Rising from her bed, Adelais glanced at her reflection in the mirror one more time. It was cold enough outside that she was able to get away with wearing a scarf and sweater over her other clothes; her black jeans stretched over long, thin legs and her modestly heeled ankle boots gave her even greater height than she already had. They were considered to be her 'public' clothes, the ones that were saved only for when her parents were letting her leave the house.

The green eyes of her reflection stared back at her, murky and dull. She had nothing on her to carry; no phone, no wallet, no keys. So, with only the clothes covering her, Adelais walked out of her room to meet her mother for inspection.

Her father was sitting in front of the fireplace while reading the newspaper, but he glanced up at her with calculating eyes as soon as she emerged from the dark hallway. Her mother, however, had been waiting expectantly with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. "That took you too long. When I tell you to come out, you come out."

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," Adelais promised dully, lacking any true emotion in her voice. Once upon a time, it would have trembled in fear at the thought of a possible punishment. Now, she couldn't feel any fear through her numbed soul.

Her mother glared critically at her before she walked forward and forced Adelais's head down so she could double-check her braid. Then she snapped her jaw back up, her small, thin fingers holding surprising strength, and looked over the light layer of makeup on her daughter's face. Her gaze lingered a moment longer on the cover-up beneath her eyes, but she said nothing about it and proceeded to go over her clothing. Her scarf was tightened around her neck and her charcoal grey sweater was straightened and pulled lower at her wrists and waist. Forcing Adelais to turn in a slow circle, eyes taking in every detail of her, she gave a critical, but approving nod just as a horn sounded from outside.

"That's your uncle and cousin. Now, you will be polite and speak when spoken to, but otherwise I want you to be  _silent_. Am I understood?"

"Yes, mother," Adelais responded automatically.

Turning on her heel and marching toward the front door, Adelais followed without a word—already knowing what she was expected to do. Her father watched her pass with a glare, eyes barely cusped over the newspaper. "So help me god, if you break those rules…" he warned cryptically, turning eyes gaze back to his reading as her mother pulled open the door to greet her younger brother.

"My, Adelais, you've gotten so big!" he cheered in surprise, stepping forward to give her a hug. Adelais did her best not to tense up at the action and lifted on hand to rest on his back, giving the illusion of returning the embrace. She offered a tight smile as he pulled back from her, looking over his niece's appearance. Adelais could feel her mother burning holes in the side of her head.

"It's good to see you, too, uncle. How have you been?"

"Just perfect! And Claire's very excited about her party, so I think it's best we get going. Is that alright, Sarah?" he turned to ask Adelais's mother, who gave a fake smile so believable that it made Adelais's skin crawl.

"Oh course! You have fun, sweetie, alright? I'll see you this evening."

Adelais nodded to her mother, feeling her stomach turn at the false kindness her mother showed as she followed her uncle out toward the car. Her cousin was sitting in the back seat, talking adamantly with a dark skinned girl that must have been a close friend of hers. They both turned to look when her father and older cousin approached the car, Adelais walking around onto the street to get into the passenger side.

"Claire, you remember Adelais?" Glancing into the back as she slid into her seat, Claire's gaze met Adelais's briefly, her once natural smile tightening slightly. "You two haven't really seen one another since you were kids, but your Aunt Sarah wanted Adelais to get out for a bit while she was visiting from University."

"Yea," Claire answered tightly. "Hi, Adelais. How's school been?"

"Busy," Adelais answered quietly, turning forward again as she focused on buckling herself in. "Happy Birthday, Claire."

Claire shared an awkward look with her friend before she offered another hesitant smile. "Thanks. Glad you could come to the party."

Adelais turned her attention passed her uncle to look at her house. Most wouldn't be able to tell, but Adelais could make out the form of her mother standing beyond the mostly-closed blinds of their living room window. She was watching her even now, making sure that so long as Adelais was in her sights, she did as she was told.

Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, Adelais looked down toward the glove-compartment as her uncle pulled away from the curb slowly and merged into traffic. She kept her gaze on that exact spot as they made their way into town, heading for the restaurant that had been reserved for Claire. She listened as her younger cousin rattled on about who was coming, whispering to her friend about how she couldn't believe they had invited the 'emo girl'. Adelais wasn't sure whether or not she her father could hear her, but if he did he wasn't saying anything.

 _Bitch_ , she cursed in her head. She forced herself to swallow the anger that rose in her chest, burning her like bile as she fought against the urge to punch the glove-compartment. Closing her eyes a moment and taking a deep breath, Adelais forced herself to push aside the anger and vengeful thoughts. If she lost her cool when she was away from home, her mother would beat her into a hospital bed and never let her leave again.

"Looks like we're not the first ones here," her uncle stated suddenly as he pulled into a half-filled parking lot. Claire shrieked in excitement as she leaned toward the window, calling out the names of the friends she recognized from her class. Adelais flinched from the noise, the action so small that the other passengers of the car didn't even realize she had moved.

Once the car was parked Claire and her friend piled out of the back like their asses were on fire, rushing over to a small group of other girls that were also shrieking at an ungodly volume. "Hey, Adelais, mind giving me a hand carrying in some gifts?" Knowing better than to refuse, Adelais nodded silently and let him load gift bags into her arms, picking up what she guessed to be a cake before he closed the trunk of the car.

Some strange looks were thrown her way from the girls that Claire was talking with, but Adelais paid it no mind as she walked with her uncle into the restaurant.

Adelais put the presents down where the rest were already clustered on the table, bright pink wrapping paper glaringly obvious in the large room. Claire and her classmates steadily filed in, the sound volume of the room skyrocketing because of it. "I know it's a bit awkward since you don't know anyone here," her uncle started, keeping his voice low as he stood next to Adelais, "and you're a bit older than these girls. Just stay close to me, the adults need to stick together."

The kind smile that he offered her was a true one, not like her mother's fake smiles. However, as honest as his kindness seemed to be, it made Adelais's skin crawl with discomfort. She couldn't even count on one hand the number of times she's received kindness from anyone.

"Thank you, uncle."

"Ah, just call me John," he advised with a wave of his hand. "You're not a little girl anymore, seems strange to hear you call me 'uncle'."

Adelais nodded her head slowly. "John," she repeated, getting another smile before he excused himself to go and try and corral the clusters of teenagers. Adelais had been able to pick up that it was Claire's art class that had been invited—all of whom were her friends, except for the one they had called the 'emo girl' on the way over.

Even as far back as she was from everyone, keeping her distance as she sat at one of the farther tables where John had placed his coat and keys, Adelais could pinpoint exactly who the odd-one-out was when she arrived. The other girls were dressed quite fashionably, most of them wearing a shirt that was probably more money than the other girl's entire outfit. Adelais's keen eyes examined the brunette when she arrived; simple pants and boots with several layers of shirts and sweaters on top—the last one being an oversized plaid sweater.

She did not seem enthused about being there, immediately stepping away from everyone else as she fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves. Claire was polite enough to greet her and thank her for coming, but after that the new girl blended quite effectively into the background. Adelais knew the feeling; wanting to disappear and pretend you weren't there. Kind of like the childish 'if I can't see you, you can't see me' kind of thing.

It never actually worked.

The brunette's dark eyes lifted to meet with Adelais's suddenly, both women wearing no expression or emotion as they stared across the room at one another. Green eyes narrowed. She looked nothing like the younger girl, yet it was frightfully similar to how she had looked into the mirror only an hour before. The brunette looked away first, taking a seat near the window so Adelais could still see half of her face, lacking true expression.

It was a long couple of hours, remaining at the table with John as the rest of the girls laughed and yelled. They were served by the staff at the restaurant, catered to and cleaned up after. Adelais's hands were gripping the end of her scarf in a white knuckled grip as time wore on, John chatting away across their table as he told her stories about family events that neither she nor her parents could attend.

 _Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up_.

A waiter walked passed them with a stack of dirty dishes, raising the pile higher so there was no chance of him bumping John as he spoke adamantly of their last summer barbeque. A steak knife, teetering on the edge, drew Adelais's attention. What if it were to fall? It was too close to kill him, but it would certainly hurt him and that would call off the birthday party. He was her ride, so she wouldn't have to go home.

However, even if it wasn't her fault, her mother would be furious if she wasn't back by that evening as she had agreed.

Looking away from the waiter as he continued toward the kitchen, Adelais took a shuddering breath and turned her focus to the brunette from earlier; Casey, as she had overheard from some of the other classmates, had not moved from her seat any more than Adelais had.

"Are you alright?"

Looking back to John, Adelais realized that she had been glaring in concentration at the younger girl without knowing. "Yes, sorry, just a bit of a headache. Not used to teenagers, I guess," she lied quickly—well, not entirely, since the unnecessary yelling from the group was starting to make her temples throb uncomfortably.

"Ah, right. I guess your classes at the university are more controlled, hm?"

Adelais twitched in annoyance to have him trying to actually make her talk, but she knew that it would be both rude and suspicious not to answer. So, she commenced with telling him an intricate weaving of lies, some of which her mother had orchestrated while other bits were thrown in just to make it sound real. "And you know mom," she finished, "she likes quiet."

John laughed as he nodded in understanding—it made Adelais want to sneer. He had no idea. "Yea, she's always been someone to stay inside and read a book."

He was called away before he could try and continue the conversation, Claire demanding that he take a picture of them all before some people needed to be heading home. Adelais remained where she was, thankfully out of the frame of the shot, as she watched the teenagers cluster together and smile at the camera. Casey had been drawn in as well, most likely out of obligation alone, but she didn't smile as the flash from the camera went off.

The last hour of the party gave Adelais an excuse not to talk to John; she was collecting Claire's presents and helping the staff put food into take-away containers. The discomfort behind her temples was blooming into a full-blown headache from the noise, yet Adelais was also beginning to feel the ache in her chest as she thought about returning home. Which was worse? The room full of snotty, noisy teenagers or her parents?

Lifting a hand to her neck and massaging the tender skin beneath her scarf and shirt, she figured that a pounding migraine was better than going home.

"Adelais, why don't we get one with you in the shot?" John suggested as Marcia and Claire stood together for another picture, taken with Claire's cellphone.

She stood frozen for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of it, but Claire went along to appease her father and ushered Adelais over to stand closer to the windows, in the sunlight. She grabbed Adelais's forearm to pull her along, forcing the taller blonde to repress a noise of pain as she gripped directly over a healing bruise.

Standing on Claire's right with Marcia on the left, she mimicked the same fake smile she had used for most of the day as the camera flashed again, leaving a splotch in her vision. She stepped aside and tried to blink it away as Marcia pulled Claire away to say goodbye to the last girls there. Casey was a few yards to Adelais's right, her cellphone to her ear as she seemed to be waiting for it to stop ringing.

However, as Adelais looked to the screen of the cellphone, she could see that it was not on a call screen at all, but the home screen.

She was faking the call.

Turning away before Casey could notice, the blonde went over to pick up an armful of presents as John handed Marcia a stack of take-away containers. "Did you at least enjoy yourself?" John asked as he helped drape one of the present bags over her arm, once more pressing on the bruise.

"I did, John, I promise. It was nice to get out of the house for a while."

"I'm sure you're still excited to go home," John urged on, turning to his daughter. "These teenagers can be exhausting."

"Hey," Claire protested at her father's teasing dig. The light, playful banter between father and daughter made Adelais frown for a moment before she controlled her expression. They attention soon turned to Casey, however, who Adelais noticed had switched her phone to her other ear so they couldn't see the screen. "That's what happens when you do a mercy invite."

"I believed you wanted to invite everyone," John pointed out, looking to his daughter with a faint frown.

Claire gave her father a look, one that Adelais knew would only lead to a beating if she ever  _dared_  to do such a thing. "Dad, I can't invite everyone in my art class except for one person, without social network inflicting more pain on that person than was intended. And I'm not a monster." Claire's response only made Adelais hate her more, yet she also had a strong suspicion that Casey was also selfish and had only come to the party to escape something.

Or someone.

"I'm proud of you. I think," John answered.

_I hate you all._

"She gets detention a lot, and she yells at teachers sometimes. And there was that rumour that went around that she just kept running away from home." The more that Claire spoke, the more Adelais felt like she was dying on the inside. She knew those signs; when she had been younger than Casey is, she had been the one exhibiting them. Up until her parents had learned how to keep a handle on her and model her to be the perfect, fake daughter.

_Fucking idiots._

"I seriously think she can Uber," Marcia suggested, glancing from Claire to John.

"I really think that we can go home now-"

"I'm sorry," John interrupted. "Did I mistakenly convey that this was a democracy? We are not going 'til she gets picked up." As he was speaking, Casey finally hung up from her 'phone call' and made her way over to meet the small group of people. Adelais was staring again, looking over the brunette with a look even more calculating and analyzing that the one when Casey had first arrived.

Dark eyes met hers briefly, that strange sensation of looking in a mirror returning.

"Uh…the car…broke down," Casey lied hesitantly, sounding like she had struggled to come up with a valid excuse for her ride not coming. Her voice sounded rough and unused to Adelais. "I'm just gunna take the bus."

John was already shaking his head. "You're not taking a bus, I'm gunna drive you home. Claire has almost saved her half of the money she needs for a car, isn't that right?"  _Spoiled brat._ "This might be one of the few times left I can drive you guys around." He sounded far too enthused to be willingly surrounded by the annoyance that was his daughter and her friends.

Adelais looked away from them and forced herself to take calming breaths.

_Idiots. Idiots, idiots, idiots._

Casey finally agreed after Claire threw in a pathetic excuse about dad jokes. "It'll be a bit of a tight squeeze," John explained as they finally turned to leave. "You'll have to get in the back with Claire and Marcia; I don't think we'd be able to fit Adelais in the back, she's too long." He smiled at his own joke as he looked over to Adelais, who gave a pinched smile. "You got your height from your father. Sarah's a short little thing."

"Yea, I've been told," she responded lowly, opening the door with her hip and holding it for the others to leave.

The cold air was a nice reprieve after having sat inside with Claire's art class. John took the lead with Claire and Marcia just behind, Casey and Adelais bringing up the back of the pack. Casey discretely glanced at Adelais from the corner of her eye, taking in the blank expression on the older woman's pale face. Some of the cover-up beneath her eyes had faded, showing the shadows of insomnia that marked her, and a strand of dark blonde hair had slipped from the braid at the top of her head to fall down and frame one of her dulled green eyes.

When said eyes flicked over to meet her gaze, Casey held them for a moment before looking away.

No words were exchanged, yet there was a silent understanding that passed between the two as they approached John's car. Marcia handed over the food before she and Claire slipped into the back seat, chatting away while completely ignoring the others presence. Casey didn't seem to mind, however, and rounded to the other side of the car while sliding into the free seat in the back.

Adelais put the bags down on the ground as John opened the trunk; it was empty after they had taken the cake and presents out earlier, leaving lots of room for Claire's ridiculous amount of presents. "You can lay the presents down further to the back if you want," John offered as he turned to take the food he had placed to the left of them.

Picking up the larger of the bags, Adelais leaned over the truck to slide it as far back into the truck as she could manage, leaving plenty of room for the rest. "Can I help you?" John asked suddenly, speaking to someone else as Adelais pulled away from the trunk while carefully ducking her head so as not to bang it on the metal.

The sudden hiss of what sounded like an aerosol can caused her to pause, inhaling delicately. Like sugar and chemical cleaner. Her eyebrows pinched in a frown for a moment; she could swear she knew that scent from somewhere.

" _You little brat, when I tell you to sleep, you sleep!"_

Adelais's mouth went dry when she remembered where she'd encountered that smell before. Turning to look over her shoulder, the figure standing just behind her was definitely  _not_  her uncle. Shaved head, glasses, and a serious look contorting his features like a scowl, Adelais did nothing more than stare for a moment as her heart began to beat faster in her chest.  _Blue eyes, pale skin, a shaving nick near the left ear, ironed shirt—all grey._

Her eyes darted down to the small can he was holding, the one she had just heard. At his feet, John lay motionless with the food containers tipped beside him. It left a mess on the concrete. He'd made a mess.

Looking up again, the man's blue eyes had hardened as they watched her. He was large—not quite twice her size due to her bizarre height, but she could see the muscle definition in his arms and neck. She didn't have experience running, always locked inside an enclose space, so she knew he would be faster than her. She was also still sore, and therefore wouldn't be effective with defending herself.

Releasing a long, tired breath, Adelais let her eyes fall closed in resignation.

The hiss of aerosol can sounded again, followed by the sugar and chemical smell as her face was sprayed. Her lungs reluctantly inhaled the fumes, immediately taking effect and leaving her dizzy. Gravity pulled her down, causing her body to tip backward toward the concrete. Strong hands caught her before she could make contact, hoisting her up as the weightless feeling of her body disappeared into the abyss of her mind.


	2. The Needs of One

At first, she wasn't sure if her eyes were open or not. All she could see was darkness, solid black all around. Her arm felt like lead as she tried to reach out in front of her, but she didn't need to go far anyway—only inches from her face, her hand slammed into solid metal with a faint thud. Her head swam like she's been drinking and her mouth and throat were bone-dry. It wasn't the first time she had woken to this feeling; it was disturbingly familiar, actually.

Placing her hand flat against the surface above her, she frowned into the darkness as she tried to think about what had happened. She was at Claire's annoying excuse for a party, the yells and laughter of the teenagers causing her head to throb. She and John had been at the back of the car, loading the presents and food into the trunk—no.

There was food across the concrete. Someone had made a mess and spilled the food. The blued eye man, with the small can of chloroform. Sugar and chemicals. Exhaling sharply through her nose, as though trying to remove the remnants of the chemical on her skin and in her airways, Adelais let her hand fall from the lid of the trunk and closed her eyes.

She was in the trunk of the car.

_Perfect._

Did he kill John? The girls?

They had all already been in the car, waiting. Had they realized what was happening and ran?

_Cowards._

"Shut up," Adelais ordered in a groggy whisper, her voice sounding forced and raw. Opening her hands again, she reached up and wiped around her mouth and nose, the residue of the chloroform irritating her nose. Trying to move her legs when her back gave a twinge of discomfort proved that she was folded tightly into the small space.

The realization that she could barely move caused her heartrate to increase drastically, her once shaking breaths growing shallow and raspy. All she could smell was sugar and chemicals, all she could see was thick blackness, and all she could feel was the scratchy felt beneath her back and the encasing metal all around her. Trying to even her breaths, her legs kicked out instinctively—as though her subconscious mind figured they could kick away the obstructing walls.

Before she could descend into a full-blown panic-attack, the trunk opened abruptly. Fresh air breezed in through the new opening and Adelais lunged up on instinct, gasping for air at a dangerous rate as her hands scrambled at the boot of the car.

Hands grabbed her upper arms in an iron grip, the presence of the man having gone completely unnoticed in her haze of panic, and hauled her out of the trunk with terrifying strength. Her knees slammed into the metal, drawing a yelp of pain to burst from her throat, her hands snatching at his arms to try and relieve some of his grip. When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled in place at the off-balance feeling from landing on the small heels she was forced to wear.

_Don't touch. Don't touch. Don't touch._

The hands on her arms spun her around, facing the trunk of the car, before a strip of cloth was pulled over her eyes to block out the blurry view that she hadn't even been focusing on. Her breathing was steadily evening out now that she was no longer crammed into the trunk; however, the sudden removal of her sights caused her breath to hitch with a new wave of panic.

Without even thinking on it, she tried to reach up for the cloth that had blinded her. Those same hands stopped her before her fingertips had even neared her face; they wrapped around her wrists like shackles and pulled her arms down across her chest, like an X, to prevent her from moving again. "Don't," he said suddenly, his voice surprisingly deep. She could feel the vibration of the word in his chest, pressed up against her back as it was.

_You won't move, you won't speak—you won't even_ look _, understand?_

_Yes, Mother._

Controlling her breathing and trying to keep herself as still as possible, Adelais did her best to ignore the sound of her mother's voice in her head, following by her own familiar thoughts.  _Do as you're told_. Her breath shuddered for just a moment, the beginning of a headache returning to her temples as she felt her body being turned and the man gently press his shoulder against hers, almost as though he was nudging her forward.  _Do as you're told and you might be safe._  Stepping forward as he had silently directed, she left him guide her away from the car and into the unknown that he had blocked from her sights.

She was led for many paces before they arrived at a set of stairs; his voice was in her ear as he told her how many steps to count before she was on flat ground again. She dutifully descended, his arms ever present around her as he continued to hold her wrists.  _Don't fight him_ , she knew better. Walking with him, feeling when his feet or legs wound bump the backs of hers, she made no sound or sudden movement to set him off.

_You can think you're perfect, but she'll always find a flaw._

She drew to a jerky halt when "stop" was suddenly uttered in her ear. Remaining frozen, one foot ready to leave the ground for another step, Adelais forced herself to keep breathing as she waited. It smelled stale and musty wherever they were, like a basement. Their footsteps had echoed faintly as they were walking, the hard feel of concrete beneath her feet. Where was she?

"Don't move," he ordered, waiting a moment before he retracted his hands and released Adelais's wrists. Even though they weren't bound in place, she made sure to keep her arms crossed at her chest and her body as still as possible. As she remained perfectly still, she felt him move around her, the sound of his breathing and his footsteps the only hint to tell her where he was. She nearly jumped when she felt his hands near her shoulders, undoing her scarf and lifting it from around her neck and shoulders. The high collar of her sweater helped to cover her neck, keeping her from feeling bare.

However, no longer having the thick layer still left her feeling more exposed than before.

"Keep your eyes closed," he directed next. The blindfold was pulled from her hair, loosening and messing up her braid more than before, and the man let out what sounded like an annoyed exhale. She couldn't repress her flinch when his hands were suddenly in her hair, pulling out the tie from the bottom before he pried out every last bobby pin that had kept the style in place. Adelais's breathing trembled in place of her frozen body as his fingers glided through her hair in search of any other pins, pulling out the style so her hair fell in waves along her shoulders.

He was…gentle.

The way that he was careful not to pull her hair, removing the pins with a surprising tenderness, left her confused and afraid. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop—the moment that would upset him and lead to her being struck.

But it never came.

He replaced the blindfold over her eyes for a second time and stepped behind her, taking hold of her wrists. The nudge to her shoulder came again and she dutifully resumed her pace forward, turning whichever way he directed. When he released her again, it was only with one hand as the sound of jingling keys came before the click of a lock.

The room they stepped into was warmer than the previous one, and she could see light penetrating through her blindfold and closed eyelids. He changed his hold on her in that moment, taking both of her wrists in his one hand, startling her with just how large it was, and used the other to unlock another door just before them. He was still standing just before her, his breath at the back of her head, as he opened the second door and pushed at her shoulder to force her inside.

He walked her about five paces into the room before he stopped and released her wrists, snatching the blindfold from her face. The abrupt, jerky actions had her flinching in fear, expecting a strike to come next, but she could only hear his footsteps as he left the room and closed the door behind him. The click of the lock falling into place had her exhaling and trembling in place as she finally opened her eyes.

"Adelais!" Claire whispered in shock before she rose from the cot she and Marcia were sitting on to rush up to her, hands extended out toward her older cousin. The woman flinched, however, and looked around with jerky movements. Two beds and a small, pristine white bathroom to her left made up the only things she could notice at first glance. Casey sat in her bed by herself, knees drawn in toward her chest as she watched Adelais spin around to stare at the door she had been pushed through.

At least it wasn't the trunk.

"Adelais, where's my dad? Did you see my dad?" Claire was questioning, walking around the woman to try and get her to focus. Adelais flinched again, leaning away from Claire as her eyes narrowed. Her head was beginning to hurt terribly.

Turning again, once more facing the cots, Adelais's face was tense with concentration. The green was not nearly as dull as it had appeared before, taking in every detail that she could find throughout the room. It was clean, and put together with precision.  _Clean, clean, clean._

Claire's voice rose in volume. "Adelais! What happened to my dad?"

Spinning to Claire, Casey could have sworn a snarl had marred the older woman's face for a split second. " _I don't know!_ " Her yell caused the other three to flinch, Claire stepping back from her cousin's abrupt loss of temper. But then she closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths, something Casey had seen her do several times during Claire's party. When she spoke again, her tone was low and calm—controlled, "he was lying on the ground last I saw him, I think he was only unconscious."

"Maybe that man brought him, too?" Marcia suggested, looking uneasily between Adelais and the door behind her. Waiting for the man to show up again.

Claire nodded in agreement, pacing back toward the bed as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "That's right. Maybe he was put in the trunk or something?" Adelais flinched at the word, remembering the tight, constricting feeling of the small space. Casey noticed her action and frowned, watching as Adelais stepped over to the small section of wall next to the bathroom door, leaning against it as her arms wrapped around her torso. "Maybe he's here somewhere!"

" _He_  wasn't in the trunk," Adelais interrupted quietly, only heard because of the quiet tones that Claire was speaking in.

"What?"

However, the older blonde said nothing more. Casey frowned a moment more before realization hit her abruptly. "Adelais was in the trunk," she answered for her, causing Claire and Marcia's eyes to widen as they looked to Adelais again, this time taking in the defensive way she was standing. It was very similar to how Casey was curling in on herself on the bed, trying to appear as small and unnoticeable as possible. "Weren't you?"

Green eyes met with dark brown, holding the young teenager's gaze for a moment before she gave the faintest nod. " _I_  was in the trunk," she admitted in the softest whisper.

Silence fell over the three of them as Claire resumed her seat next to Marcia, the two girls grabbing a hold of one another as they looked timidly at the floor. They'd been in the car and then woken up in this room; Adelais had woken up stuffed in a trunk, probably crammed to capacity and entirely disoriented.

The distinct sound of a door closing caused them all to turn toward their only exit. The rattling of keys soon followed, closer and more distinct. Casey drew her knees closer to her chest, making herself smaller as Adelais stepped back until her heel knocked against the wall. The door opened to reveal the man from before, still dressed in greys with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Adelais remained perfectly still as he looked over each of them.

He was holding a chair, a foldup wooden chair. Her eyes darted along his form, trying to find something that could give her information. He was frighteningly clean, so well put together, that it reminded her of her mother's perfectionist ways. However, that meant that he held no clues on his person. He was cleverly masked behind a visage of grey and cleanly groomed mannerisms.

He left the door open and unfolded the chair before placing it in front of their only escape, centered between the two beds.

Adelais's eyes narrowed when he suddenly pulled out a yellow cloth, using it to meticulously wipe the seat of the chair to remove anything that might linger on its surface.  _Germophobe? OCD?_  He neatly folded the cloth up again and returned it to his pocket while stepping in front of the chair.  _Five-seven? No, closer to five-nine. Not dominantly tall, but stronger than physical appearance may suggest._

She tried not to think about that strength when he was pulling her from the trunk.

Sitting down and crossing his arms, the man said nothing. He looked between the four of them, just looked. Adelais was pressed against the wall, arms relaxed at her sides as her body automatically returned to the instincts of her mother's orders. Under inspection. His eyes went to Casey, curled in on herself with her head ducked low so as not to be properly seen. Marcia and Claire were breathing audibly, shakily, as he looked to them next. Marcia looked away, unable to keep eye contact, and leaned in closer to Claire. As discretely as possible, she tried to pull her short black skirt lower on her thigh.

_Idiot. Shouldn't have moved._

The man rose from the chair, pointing to Marcia. "I choose you first," he stated plainly before he picked up the chair and folded it again, taking it out into the larger room. The man returned and stepped toward Marcia, who was now desperately clinging to Claire.

He seemed to hesitate a moment before actually coming in contact with Marcia, but then he reached out with reflexes fast enough to surprise Adelais and Casey. Marcia was torn from Claire's grasp, issuing screams from both girls that caused Adelais to flinch. Marcia wiggled and struggled furiously in his hold, still screaming and beginning to cry in panic and fear.

Adelais lunged forward when she broke from his grip, grabbing a hold of Marcia and almost tossing her backward into Casey as the man advanced again. Casey caught Marcia and began whispering furiously in a low tone, too quiet for Adelais to hear as she felt the man's hand grab her arm instead. He glared down at her for a moment, blue eyes critical and calculating, before he swung her around and tossed her in Claire's direction. Throwing a hand out to stop herself from rolling off the cot, she was righted in time to see him carry Marcia from the room, screaming and kicking. She was able to land a slap against his face before he tossed her further into the other room and turned back to pull the door closed.

Claire grabbed at the material of Adelais's sweater, tugging on it in desperate fear as Adelais herself was left heaving for air. He had  _thrown_  her.

He barely had a grip on her arm and he has tossed her like she wasn't only an inch shorter than him.

Marcia's voice reached through the door, her words desperate as she begged out 'no' repeatedly. Rising from the bed in a rush, Adelais felt her muscles trembling in reaction to the other girl's broken pleas. Claire rushed up after her, darting passed Adelais to begin banging on the door furiously. Marcia's voice grew louder as she began screaming. Casey sat on her cot, silent and frozen.

"Open the door!" Claire shrieked, continuing to bang on the metal and wood with clenched fists.

Claire was forced to stumble back when the door was pushed open again, knocking her backward as Marcia was ushered back into the room. The man was holding her wrists crossed over her chest, just as he had done with Adelais, and walked her further into the room before he abruptly dropped her and recoiled with what sounded like a with-held shout.

He didn't end up saying a thing more, just grabbed the door and pulled it closed with a resounding bang. The lock nearly immediately clicked back into place.

Marcia's sobs were the only sound in the room, drawing Adelais to turn around. As she did so, a strong, distinct smell overcame her senses. She frowned deeply and looked down to Marcia, who was being supported by Claire. Her legs were wet with liquid as she stumbled to a standing position, tugging on her skirt again. "He wanted me to dance for him," she explained shakily while pulling away from Claire and heading for the bathroom. "And the outside door's locked."

As Claire gasped out self-reassurances—all of which Adelais knew were false—she went to help Marcia and left Adelais alone with Casey. Green eyes fell on the girl, distraught and silent as she stared at the far wall with a blank look.  _She'd_  whispered something to Marcia.  _She'd_  told her what to do. Adelais watched as Casey began to breathe faster, a tear escaping to slide down her cheek.

_A victim always knows._

Knowing better than to try and speak with her, Adelais turned her back to let Casey collect herself and approached the locked door on silent feet. Crouching in front of the door's crease, she leaned in close enough to try and see through—to try and see the room beyond. However, while she could tell that the man was not in direct view, the line of sight was awkward and distorted. Offering nothing for her.

"Can you see anything?" Claire asked suddenly, standing in the doorway of the bathroom as Marcia pulled off her stockings and tried desperately to clean her legs.

"Nothing that will help," she answered quietly, not wanting to draw his attention if he returned. Standing again, she moved to lean against the wall that sat opposite the door, between the two cots. "Two locked doors that we know about and only god knows how many more; several sets of stairs and a hell of a lot of turns."

"How do you know that?" Marcia asked from the doorway to the bathroom; her stockings and pantyhose had been removed and Adelais could only assume she had washed them and hung them to dry somewhere.

Adelais shifted position so that she was no longer standing but instead crouched to the floor with her back against the stone wall behind her. "He may have blindfolded me, but I  _walked_  the entire way down to this room from the car. I don't even remember how many times I turned what way, or at which time. Wherever we are, it's big and it's underground."

Claire fell to sit on the edge of the bed with a long sigh, letting her head fall into her hands as she did so. "So what now?"

Being the oldest of the four, the other three girls turned their eyes to Adelais. "You think I know the secret to escaping abduction?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes. "All I can offer is to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible and maybe he won't pick you. Marcia, don't draw attention to your skirt and thighs again. As soon as your stockings dry, go put them on. The least skin you can show, the better."

"So let him pick someone else?" Claire demanded in disbelief.

"It's human instinct; you'll hate yourself for it, but if you're spared by someone else taking your place then you'll be grateful."


	3. Misguided Comforts

_Thirty-eight. Thirty nine. Forty._

Adelais was sitting on the floor between the two cots, her back to the door as she looked at the stone wall opposite their locked escape. Her butt was beginning to hurt from sitting on the concrete floor and the feeling in her legs was growing fuzzy with lack of proper blood flow, but she remained where she was. Claire and Marcia were going between their cot and the bathroom, checking for when Marcia's clothes would be dry and she'd washed them. Casey hadn't moved much, remaining on the other cot as she kept her knees up and her chin down.

She didn't really know how longer it had been since Marcia was thrown back into the room, but Adelais had spent most of that time counting the imperfection in the wall cement that bound the stones together. Bubbles, cracks, chips; anything that her eye found to be an imperfection was counted in her mind.

_Forty-one. Forty-two._

The other girls thought she was just staring blankly at the wall, sitting in the middle of the room like a lunatic as she just gazed forward. Almost unblinking. Her expression lacked emotion and she was sitting perfectly straight, without a single flaw in her posture. Claire was mildly unnerved by the woman; she knew that she was weird. She had ever since she'd seen her emerge from the house with her father, but this was something else.

The door behind her opened so suddenly that none of them were prepared; Marcia shrieked and dove back into the bathroom—even though there was no lock on the door—and Claire stepped back so suddenly that she knocked her knees on the edge of the cot and fell to sit. Casey barely moved, only ducking her head back down suddenly.

Adelais twisted her torso slightly so that she could see over her shoulder, watching with surprised green eyes as the man marched into the room. This time, he was not carrying the chair with him and therefore had free hands. She barely had time to look at him before he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her unprotected torso and lifting her from the floor with terrifying strength. A gasp of surprise was the only sound that came from her as her butt left the ground, her heels dragging for a moment, and then she was being carried across the room and out the open door.

"Adelais!" Claire screamed suddenly once she had overcome her shock, but the door was already closed before she had even gotten off the bed. The older blonde was tossed into the open space of the adjoining room, her feet stumbling beneath her as she tried to catch her balance on her small heels.

She stopped to face the door across from the room he had pulled her from, reinforced and most likely locked. Her attention shifted in a quick circle as she took in the long coatrack to her left, a table and computer to her right, and a whole lot of clutter throughout the rest of the room.

For someone who seemed so neat, this room was distinctly messy and cluttered.

Turning around to face the man that had so suddenly carried her from the others, Adelais's body went instinctively lax as she fell into the familiar routine of her mother's critical eye. The man was standing in front of the door; Claire's shouting and banging from the other side prompted no reaction from him. He stood still, gaze firmly fixed on Adelais.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a new sensation when she was being inspected. However, it wasn't altogether a sensation of fear. Not like she had assumed it would be. This man wasn't looking at her with intent to hurt, and he wasn't looking at her with the strange fascination that he had with Marcia when he had picked her.

His expression pinched slightly as he looked at her for a long moment. "Close your eyes," he ordered in a deep, gravelly voice. It shocked her for a moment, not having expected that particular order, before her body responded instinctively and did as he was ordered. Once her eyes were closed, Adelais was left to stand in darkness.

She heard his approach, the sound of his carefully cleaned shoes tapping against the floor as he approached her, circled her.

His fingertips ghosted her cheek, brushing the hair from her face as he looked at her, eyes closed and expression submissively lax. She was different; different than the other three. Two were afraid, unexperienced when it came to difficulties and fear in their lives; the third was quiet, timid and withdrawn, making herself appear non-existent. This woman, however, acted as though her body knew what to do.

She followed his directions without complaint or argument; she had allowed him to blind her and bind her, walking with him through his home until she was safe behind locked doors. Lowering his hand from her cheek, he instead left it to rest at the base of her throat—his palm pressing to her prominent collar bone through her sweater. Her breathing hitched the faintest bit when his hand landed over her collar, but she remained perfectly still eyes closed.

Was this trust? Fear?

No, this was something different.

Adelais was fighting very hard not to move; the hand on her throat was straying terrifyingly close to old wounds and it made her heart race in her chest. Could he feel it? Did he know the terror that was settled in her chest at that moment, brought about by a simply placement of a hand? It made her think of her father, hand on her throat with her lungs burning— _desperate_ —for air.

_Don't touch me._

Almost as though he heard her thoughts, his hand drew away from her as he walked around her once more. She felt like a possession being viewed at auction. One of his hands came to her left side, showing just how thin she was by the way his large hand cradled her thin waist, just below her ribs. Soon, he was standing before her again and his other hand came to her mirror the first, cradling her waist like they were to dance.

She knew that if he squeezed, his fingers would most likely meet as they completely encircled her thin torso.

"Don't move," he ordered; it was much as he had hours before when he was bringing her down to the other girls. Again, she did as he was told. He had been gentle the first time, and he was gentle again. With timid touches, he held her waist for a moment—hesitation?—before he suddenly leaned in closer and pressed his front against hers as his hands drifted to her back.

He was…holding her.

There was no malice, no pain or threat. He was just holding her, the embrace somewhat awkward and loose, but an embrace none the less. Adelais remained frozen in place, her arms at her sides as his forearms brushed her elbows while he held onto her. With her eyes closed, she couldn't be certain where he was looking or how close his face was, but she guessed from the faint brush of air near her jawbone that he was not directly in front of her face—he was slightly toward her shoulder, with his head bowed.

Adelais could feel the uncomfortable, almost terrifying tightening in her stomach that came with uncertainty. When was the last time she had been gently held? When was the last time a man had laid hands on her without the intent to harm?

Keeping her eyes closed was a simple task, but holding still was proving to be a challenge.

However, it was not that she wanted to flee or fight him off—no, fight or flight was not a problem—it was that she wished to embrace him in return. There was a hesitancy and loneliness in this man's actions that caused familiar pain to curl in Adelais's stomach. Rejection, alienation, loneliness. It was a pain almost worse than physical.

Her hands flexed just slightly, wishing there was something that she could hold onto. Something she could touch.

He had taken her and the other girls, left Claire's father abandoned in a parking lot, and yet she only wished to hold him. Where was the malice? Wasn't that the normal reaction to being kidnapped and held against ones will?

_She was right. I'm such a freak._

The man seemed to gain more confidence then, his arms tightening around her body until they were pressed front to front, no space between. He was as strong as she already assumed, the hard plains of his torso proving that he was physically fit and capable of stopping any of them from trying to escape. He smelled of fresh laundry and hand sanitizer, with a subtle undertone that she assumed was some kind of tea.

A sudden pressure on her shoulder, accompanied with the hot rush of breath at her chest, told her that he had laid his forehead down on her thin frame.

_What has been done to you?_  She wondered dazedly, beginning to fight the urge to open her eyes.

As suddenly as he had embraced her, the man pulled back and stepped away so that he was invisible to her closed eyes once more. She knew not where he was, how far he stood or if he was even facing her. The warmth from his embrace lingered and left her wanting. Her hand twitched as though to reach for him, but she stopped herself before her arm could lift from her side.

_Close your eyes. Don't move._

"Can you…do you know how to dance?" he asked suddenly. He was still so close, his words causing his breath to caress her face— _peppermint_.

"No," she answered quietly, barely more than whispering the word. "I was never allowed to," she added on a moment later, fearing that denying him may lead to angering him.

He was silent after her answer, leaving her in suspense as she waited for what his reaction may be. She couldn't supress her jump of surprise when his hands suddenly took hers, the warmth of his fingers surrounding her chilled palms as he gently tugged her one step forward. "Open your eyes," he ordered a moment later. When she did, she was left looking at the serious line of his lips—not quite a frown but still lacking any positive emotion.

Looking up, her eyes met with his dark blue irises as he watched her with that same blank expression. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but the way that he had held her made her feel as though some of his seriousness would have bled away. When he stepped in toward her, she shakily moved back on instinct. He followed, then stepped away again and pulled her after him. It took her a moment to realize that he was very awkwardly showing her how to dance.

Nodding her head without actually saying anything, she carefully followed his movements in their awkward, broken dance. It was a strange mixture of ballroom steps and regular slow dance that she had vaguely seen on television before. The man's shoulders relaxed just slightly as they turned and stepped again, the movements seemed to aid the dissipation of tension. Adelais couldn't quite bring herself to relax in the same way, but she wasn't as jerky and halting as she followed his steps and let him draw her in slightly closer to him.

Soon, his arms were around her waist again, her hands abandoned to rest on his biceps—where else was she to put them?—and his temple pressed to hers. Was this how it was when other people danced? Was this actually what it felt like?

It made her wish she had something to compare it to, but that was a pointless desire.

The man suddenly halted; the action was so abrupt that Adelais's hands gripped his biceps tightly when she nearly tripped on her small heels. He was shockingly rigid and pulled back suddenly, disconnecting her hands from his person—they automatically fell to her sides as she awaited his next command. He just looked at her, the same cold expression on his face. However, his eyes were not nearly as steel and gunmetal as they had been before.

The appearance helped to soothe her somewhat, but there was a lingering feeling of confusion and anxiety in the pit of her stomach. He turned and walked to the door she had been pulled through short minutes before, barely looking at her again as he motioned her over to where he stood.

Following the silent instruction, Adelais moved to stand in front of the door as he unlocked it and opened it just enough for her to step back inside. She didn't look at him as she passed, letting the door close and lock behind her as they ignored one another and the events that had, strangely, taken place. Claire, who had been sitting on the end of her cot while nervously playing with her shirt sleeves, rose abruptly and rushed toward Adelais.

The older blonde flinched slightly—even the man hadn't approached her so suddenly.

"Are you alright? He…he didn't touch you, did he?"

"Did he make you dance?" Marcia asked shakily, standing in the entrance to the washroom as she wrapped her arms around herself in fear.

Adelais thought of their combined movements, awkward and unknowing, and lied, "No." Stepping passed Claire, she moved over to where she had been sitting before, this time with her back to the wall as Casey carefully gauged her expressions. "He…held me. He told me to close my eyes and just held me."

Claire and Marcia both stared in disgust, Adelais's words sounding much worse than the experience had actually been. "Held you?" Claire repeated in a coarse voice.

"Yes, though barely. He seemed afraid to touch me. Like I would try to hurt him," Adelais answered thoughtfully, tipping her head back until it was resting on the stone wall and she was able to stare at the ceiling above her.

"Why didn't you?" Marcia demanded as she marched from the bathroom, finally, and stood next to Claire. Both teens held judgement in their gaze; they couldn't comprehend why someone would play along with a kidnapper—why she had just let him play her like an instrument.

"He's too strong," Casey answered for her, looking away from Adelais's thoughtful expression. "I saw him carry one you in here. It was like you weighed nothing," she explained quietly.

Adelais thought back to the muscle definition she had felt. When he had held her, the strong expanse of his torso was extremely notable. When she had nearly tripped, grabbing tightly to his arms, she's been able to feel the strong presence of well-worked biceps. "He's very strong. Fighting back isn't going to do any good," she continued for Casey. "And he has a temper; Marcia proved that. He's…trying to control himself against something, and it's hard for him." The other three stared at her in shock and confusion, not sure where this was coming from. "If we push him…it may just get one of us hurt."

"Or killed," Claire muttered, her face paling at the thought.

"Or that," Adelais confirmed with a nod. "We don't know what he wants, but I think that it would benefit for us to play along, even just slightly."

Then, Adelais closed her eyes and just listened to the other girls as they conversed, mostly between Marcia and Claire. Casey was looking over at Adelais discretely, watching the older woman as she breathed and relaxed, her expression hiding anything that she may have been thinking. Her blonde hair was messed and wavy from being removed from her braid, some of the curls and waves obscuring her face.

She was a beautiful woman; her skin was starkly pale, like untouched snow, and her eyes were the most beautiful green. The dark of her lashes ghosted pale cheeks, the barest hint of makeup that she had placed on her skin that morning beginning to fade away and leave only natural beauty behind. She was long and thin, shockingly graceful in her movements. Her posture was a strange combination of tense and at ease, like she was accustomed to standing so rigidly that she made it look natural.

However, Casey could see the signs that Claire and Marcia didn't even think to look for.

They were signs that she had seen on herself, in the mirror every day. The long sweater covered all of her neck and arms, her hair having been meticulous and perfect when they were at the restaurant. Like someone was always watching. There was a lingering behaviour behind everything she did, something that had been trained into her subconscious from a young age. It was the same one that Casey had developed, although she felt that it was for very different reasons. She strove to hide herself, to be as unnoticeable as possible; Adelais made herself as pliable and perfect as a watchful eye could see.

She was submissive to someone, and it made Casey wonder what life this woman had left until that point.

Adelais was lost in her own thoughts as she rested against the cold wall, her attention wavering between the piece of rock jabbing the back of her head and the memory of the way she had been held by the man in grey.

In her breaking heart, she realized that his was one of the only times she had ever been held for more than a brief, awkward hug. Before, it was always for show because her mother or father stood right there, but this time it had been simply because someone wanted to hold her. Someone wanted to hold another and be held in return. Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Adelais closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

_Is this what comfort feels like? Affection, so misplaced in a stranger that should not be drawing forth such feelings?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait, everyone. I was in my first-and hopefully last-car accident. Fortunately, I walked away with only a broken arm; unfortunately, it was my right, dominant arm so my typing ability has been slowed to a crawl. I had more finished on this story than on Whiskey Eyes so I was able to get this chapter out sooner, but I will try my best to get the next chapter of Whiskey Eyes out very soon! Thank you all for your patience, and I hope all of my readers from the States are safe as well after the storms.


	4. The Moments Between

Adelais stood in front of the mirror of the small bathroom they had been provided. A tiny shower sat off to the left, a sink and mirror in the center, and a toilet to the right. It was a tiny bathroom, and there was no lock on the door to provide any kind of haven. However, Adelais needed to get away from Claire and Marcia for a few minutes before she lost the last of her patience and sanity.

Taking a calming breathe, the blonde leaned her hands on the edge of the sink as she looked down into the pristine, shining porcelain. Everything was so meticulously cleaned and tended to, decorated with a single flower to match the one on the pillows of each cot. Tracing her thumb along the surface of the sink, a faint squeezing sound was created. The bathtub had been messed by Marcia when she cleaned her tights in the tub, but everything else was still mostly untouched.

Raising her attention back to her reflection, Adelais almost flinched at her unkempt appearance. Her mother would be livid when she saw her; hair messed up, makeup either gone or smudged, and her shoulders hunching forward in emotional exhaustion. A disgusting disappointment to look at.

 _An embarrassment_.

Pulling her hair away from her face and holding it with one hand, she used the other to turn on the cold water and leant low over the sink. The first handful of water against her eyes was frighteningly cold, but refreshing all the same. Wiping at the remaining makeup around her eyes, she continued splashing water against her skin to remove anything that had survived until that point.

It almost felt liberating, like shedding armor after a war.

The makeup her mother forced her to wear had served its purpose around the teenagers of Claire's party, but it was useless here. This was not the place that appearances would save you.

Releasing her hair, Adelais gave no care as it fell into the stream of water and soaked the tips. She continued splashing her face with cupped hands, rubbing at her skin to make sure none of the irritating cover-up remained. Only when her cheeks began to prickle uncomfortably from the chill did she finally turn off the tap and straighten up.

Water dripped from her chin and nose, landing on her shirt and leaving dark spots across the fabric, but she ignored the sight in favour of meeting her eyes in the mirror. Skin slightly reddened from the cold and scrubbing, areas of her hair wet and stringy around her face, Adelais felt clean. The cold had helped to wake her slightly, as well as bring down the hot anger that had been settling under her skin from sitting and listening to Claire.

Wiping her hands back over her hair, she slicked it back with the water that remained on her palms.

The shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep were now visible, as well as the few little freckles she had inherited from her mother. The rest of her skin was as pale as ivory, having been cast out of the sun for so many years. Tracing a cold fingertip beneath her eye, the skin frail and thin, Adelais wondered if her sleep would be better or worse while in the clutches of this strange man.

The man who sought contact. Affection.

The soft knock on the bathroom door caused her shoulders to tense abruptly before she forced them to lower and turned toward the door. Claire was standing on the other side, looking frazzled and high-strung. "What?" Adelais asked tiredly, ignoring the cold water that remained clinging to her skin and dripping from the tips of her hair.

"We're trying to come up with a plan," Claire explained, motioning for the older woman to come forward. Adelais heaved another sigh before shaking her head.

"You're idiots," she muttered, turning away a second time and closing the door. "Leave me alone," she added on, knowing that if they wanted to come in they could. She wished there was something she could push against the door to keep it shut.

"Adelais!" Claire whisper-yelled through the door, turning the handle to open it.

"Let me go pee," she hissed back, knowing that Claire would be too embarrassed and shy to burst in when someone might be on the toilet. Thankfully, she was right and the door handle turned back into place as it was released from her cousin's grasp.

Deciding to use the brief time she had to herself to actually tend to her needs, Adelais went to the washroom and took her time washing her hands afterword. She refused to look up into the mirror again, knowing that her present state would just bring back the haunting shriek of her mother, scolding her and belittling her.

When she emerged from the bathroom a second time, Claire gave her a heated look similar to a glare. It was easy to ignore her. Moving to the cot that Casey was sitting on, Adelais took up the free space behind the brunette—closer to the pillow and back corner—before she looked to Claire. "You could help us, you know," Claire snapped, finally, as she marched slightly toward the oldest of the group.

"With what?"

"You're the oldest one here! Take some responsibility!"

Adelais nearly scoffed. "Just because I'm older than you doesn't mean I will take credit for whatever stupid decisions you make. I'm not an expert in abductions, I don't have some secret knowledge to offer that will save any of us. Aside from…don't piss of the guy that can kill you. I thought we'd already established this?"

Claire bared her teeth, fighting the urge to yell, and made a motion with her hands like she wanted to wrap them around Adelais's neck. Casey watched the exchange from the corner of her eye, wondering how Adelais seemed so calm over the entire thing. Had this happened to her before? Was that the secret that Casey could see hidden in her actions?

No, that was something different.

The way Adelais acted didn't match up to a controlling male figure.

So, a controlling female figure.

A mother.

It made sense when one thought on it—Adelais was entirely uncomfortable in the heels she was wearing, and her meticulously put-together appearance was the kind that would please a woman, someone who held appearances in high-regard. She'd washed off the makeup, revealing a natural beauty that Casey fully believed deserved to be seen on its own, rather than hindered with eye-makeup or cover-up.

"We can't just sit in here and wait for him to come back—which could be at any second. The only chance all four of us stand a chance against him is if we work together. Okay, I took six months of kempo karate class and you distract the assailant with pain-"

This time, Adelais did scoff. It cut off Claire, who looked both started and enraged. "That man is pure muscle, and I'm going to guess he knows how to use it. Hitting him, even in a soft spot, would be like punching that wall," Adelais explained, jerked her head toward the back wall composed entirely of stones. "He'd put you down in a heartbeat and you wouldn't even see it coming."

"She's right," Casey agreed calmly. "You guys keep thinking that everything is so easy. You do one thing and can predict the next thing," she elaborated. "That's not how it's going to be in this situation."

Marcia stood up this time, rushing over to the cot that Casey and Adelais sat on, crouching between the two. "Please, we need you two to work with us. Claire is smart, let's listen to her-"

"Claire was just trying to push responsibility onto me because I'm a few years older. Her idea of a plan is to blindly rush at a man who successfully took down your father and us. All in broad daylight. All by himself. Does this room, this set up, look like he's someone who's  _new_  to this?" The other three turned to look at her with a sudden realization. "You really think this is a first? That we're something new and unique that he had to have? This was planned.  _Very_  carefully."

Marcia finally shook her head. "What other option do we have? To wait to die? Or be raped?"

Adelais shook her head tiredly. "If he wanted to rape one of you, he'd have done it while you were unconscious on the bed."

Marcia grabbed at her hair in frustration. "We could win, Adelais, if we just tried! We could get out of here!" Realizing that the older blonde wasn't going to help, Marcia turned to look at Casey. "Please, Casey, we could win-"

"He'll hurt us," Casey countered, stopping Marcia from continuing. Her tone had taken on a sharp edge. "No." Shaking her head, she turned to look between Claire and Marcia. "Shut up. Both of you."

Adelais glanced at the back of Casey's head, sitting behind her as she was, and relaxed slightly knowing that she wasn't going to agree to help the other two with some foolish plan. She'd been concerned that Casey was susceptible to manipulation from others, but she appeared to have a bit more backbone than that.

"You're going to pick your miserable-self up, and help us get out of here," Claire ordered in a low, calm voice. She was trying so desperately to take control of the entire situation, she was becoming increasingly agitated with Casey and Adelais refusing her at every turn. In her mind, she was on the right track—the two silent survivors in her midst knew otherwise.

Casey just shook her head again. "Blow me." Adelais raised an eyebrow at her sudden outburst, calmly stated but just as powerful. "And your six months of karate at the King of Prussia Mall can blow me, too." She had wanted to say something similar to her mother many times, she wished she had worked up the nerve. However, it was still entertaining to hear Casey say it to her spoiled cousin.

"No, no, no, you-you can't do this today," Claire snapped. "You can't do this right now. Why do you do this? Why do you act like this? Why do you act like you're not one of us?"

"One of you?" Adelais repeated in a slow drawn, sounding agitated but bored. "The stuck-up princess, who considers someone like Casey to be a mercy-invite? One of those?" Claire's face reddened in embarrassment at her cousin's words, forgetting that she had been there for that conversation with her father. "People like you, Claire, the ones who step into the real world and realize it's not all makeup and selfies. What, all the friends or popularity in high school will elevate your social standing in the real world? Is that what you think?"

Casey glanced at the enraged blonde over her shoulder, registering the slight raise in Adelais's voice the more she spoke.

"You're a  _pathetic_  little girl who's never had to work for anything in her life.  _This_  is the real world, Claire, where the actions you take can and will get you killed. Now, would you kindly climb down from your imaginary pedestal and shut the  _fuck_  up?"

Claire and Marcia could do no more than stare in horrified shock as the reserved, quiet cousin they had been exposed to all through the party completely crumbled away. They couldn't look or listen past the words being seeing, disregarding all else as they were distracted by the insults being thrown at them by the older woman.

Casey, on the other hand, was focused on the sudden change in tone. Adelais's voice had dropped, deepening slightly, and taken on a slower and more controlled gate. Blinking in shock as she concentrated on the different nuances of the blonde's tone, Casey began focusing on Adelais for a new reason.

Her posture had changed, less reserved and drawn in as she had been up until that point. It was more…defiant, like she had gone on the offensive. The look in her eyes were a challenge, sharp green glaring at the teens across from them like she was  _daring_  them to speak;  _daring_  them to accept the masked challenge in her words and actions.

Knowing Claire, she would be stupid enough to accept without knowing the challenge had even been issued.

"I'll let you know when I hear something that makes sense," Casey spoke up, drawing Claire's attention back to her. She did not like Claire, but something about Adelais—the abrupt shift in behaviour—suddenly made her feel like a wild card. "We don't even know what this is yet."

Claire's attention shifted between Casey and Adelais, the older blonde appearing to calm as she leaned back into the corner with her eyes directed to the stone wall. It was similar to how she had stared at it before the man had come back in and snatched her up. Focus solely on the wall, as though it held secrets that she was able to decipher from between the brick and mortar.

Gradually, Adelais's posture reverted back to how it had been—she wrapped her arms around her torso and lifted one shoulder as though to defend her neck from exposure to the rest of the room, her hair was pulled over the other shoulder as a sort of cover to replace her missing scarf, and her legs tucked in close to her body. Silence fell over the room as the other three wisely remained quiet about what had taken place.

As the other two turned in toward one another and started whispering in low levels, Casey situated her back against the wall to watch Adelais a bit more discretely while resting her cheek on one of her bent knees. Soft and quiet—easily blending into the background, submissive—turned to low and strong—wrought with challenge and domination.

It was like she had become a completely different person.

_She didn't remember saying it. It was the one word she had never said to her mother or father before, not since she was too young to know the consequences or it._

_No._

When _the word had slipped passed her lips, she wasn't sure. But she knew that her mother had been ordering her to start on dinner—a dinner she would not be allowed to eat—and then she was suddenly on the floor with the agony of her mother's slap burning the tender skin of her cheek. Thin as she was, the strike had caused her mother's ring to split the skin over her cheekbone when there was nothing to cushion the blow._

" _Don't you ever say_ no _to me again, you useless brat. When I tell you to do something, you will do it without question and without comment. Am I understood?"_

 _Unsure of what had just transpired, since Adelais knew better than to_ ever _tell either of her parents_ no _, the young adolescent could do no more than nod dumbly as she placed a hand over her bleeding cheek. The only thing she could do to make the situation worse would be to bleed on the floors, or the clothing her mother had provided her with._

_Trying so desperately to remember when the word could have slipped out, Adelais could come up with nothing as she scrambled into the kitchen to begin on her parents' dinner._

_Unfortunately, it was not the only or last time she lost control of herself and was left with no memory of the event. When being around her mother—and it usually was her mother, though sometimes her father as well—became too much and she could feel the cold, silent rage beginning to boil over, everything just disappeared. It was similar to a blink, one that seemed to carry her from one moment to the next with no recollection of the in-between._

_Then, after she had woken to enough bloody wounds or bruised limbs, the opposite occurred. When she felt on the cusp of losing control of her anger, or was witness to her mother's mood spiralling downward to end in a devastating climax for Adelais, she was suddenly waking in her bed. Not a single mark or bruise marring her body as she stared up at her ceiling in confused awe._

_Sometimes, it wasn't enough. Sometimes, nothing could save her from the wrath that festered within her mother. However, the bruises and scars had lessened over the years thanks to the odd moments of waking-sleep. That is how she began to think of it—her body was awake and some part of her consciousness remained alongside it, but she—Adelais—slept._

"We're here! We're in here!"

Adelais jolted awake at the sudden shouting, her eyes snapping open dazedly as she was left to stare across at the wall with the other cot in front of it. After falling asleep in the corner, she had eventually laid down in her sleep and curled tightly in on herself near the pillow. It left room for Casey, but not much.

Lifting her head to look toward the door, craning her neck uncomfortably in the process, Adelais watched as the three teenagers rapidly stepped away from where the door was being unlocked.

Propping her body up on one arm, Adelais didn't even have time to swing her legs off the cot before the door opened with a quiet shriek of old hinges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! ;)


End file.
